A Perfect Day
by Darke Angelus
Summary: Everyone is gathered for Goten's high school graduation. Everyone except for Goku, who's forgotten. What will the repercussions be for the Son and Briefs families when the fighter finally shows up? COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

The Disclaimer: blah blah blah... DRAGONBALL Z... yadda yadda yadda... copyright of all characters... blah blah blah... the great, all-powerful Akira Toriyama... yadda yadda yadda... C'mon an' get me ya lousy Feds!... HAH!

The Perfect Day © 2009 Darke Angelus

Part One

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_This story takes place one year after the end of the Dragonball Z series._

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Checking his watch for the fourth time in less than half an hour, Goten solemnly declared: "He's not coming."

It was the end of June and behind Satan City High School a large pavilion had been set up over a stage with crepe paper rustling in the breeze; Orange and white, the school colors, were the dominant theme. The Junior High band was situated off to one side and trying to get organized. The music instructor was just about bald from the stress of getting the seating arrangement right among the nervous would-be musicians. Other students were finishing up arranging chairs and programs were being handed out to the parents and friends who had been invited to the occasion. The mood, like the weather, was bright and warm.

The teenager was talking to the group of adults who stood in a half-circle around him, away from the rest of the civilian crowd. They were a collection of individuals who possessed the collective might to destroy a galaxy, if need be. On this particular occasion, however, they were far more sociable than usual, rarely seen as a collection in public and drawing more than their fair share of spectators at this reverent event.

Yamcha, as usual, seemed to bask in the attention. Dressed in a faded suit that had seen better days, he waved politely to the pretty girls but kept reminding himself of their age; "Jailbait... jailbait... jailbait... Nope! Won't let THAT happen again..."

Tien and Chiaotzu looked completely out of place and blinked in constant bewilderment at the teenagers in their caps and gowns, unable to fathom the reason for celebration. They were dressed in their best attire, with the little Emperor looking every bit like some strange costumed doll. He stayed near his partner in an embrace that looked beyond friendly (but nobody wanted to comment on it).

Gohan was in attendance with his wife and, to the uninitiated, they looked like any young couple, deeply in love. He was dressed in a professional grey suit and Videl looked quite comfortable in a printed dress that stopped just above her knees. She couldn't stop looking at her taller paramour and blushing. To his credit, the twenty-eight year old member of the Son family was doing some beaming of his own as he held the hand of their daughter, Pan. The little dark-haired girl was ogling at the sights and constantly asking questions.

"Why's everbody dressed up like women, daddy?"

"They're wearing caps and gowns, Pan. It's a tradition."

"Why?"

"Because, sweetie, it's Goten's graduation."

"What's that?"

"It's a ceremony that signifies the transition from scholarly achievement to-"

"Gran! Daddy's using big words again!" the little girl bawled.

ChiChi boldly moved in and swept the girl into her arms and cooed at her.

Ever silent, Android 18 stood near her husband, Krillin, and kept her strange, slanted eyes glued to the crowd, as if anticipating trouble. On this occasion, her usually straight blond locks were curled in an attractive bob and she was wearing a light blue pantsuit that showed off her exotic figure. She kept their teenaged daughter, Marron, close beside her and refused to let the girl out of her sight. Krillin, hardly believing that this tall goddess was actually his wife, spent the majority of his time staring at her with huge cow eyes. He wasn't the only one. Master Roshi, dressed in his Jackie Chun suit and hat, couldn't stop marveling over the android's figure either. He was hunkered down in the background, dapping at his bleeding nose while his eyes remained glued on her well-rounded ass.

Piccolo, clothed in his usual turban and cape ensemble, glowered menacingly at the paparazzi that had been tipped off about the exotic attendees to this occasion and were gathering in greater numbers by the minute. They were currently held at bay by a length of tape in the parking lot, much to the chagrin of Mr. Satan, Videl's eccentric father, who loved to bask on the attention of any camera within reach. The old blowhard was leaning over the tape and engaging in a boring diatribe into any mike he could grab.

Completely opposite the old has-been fighter's showboating, Bulma Briefs deliberately positioned herself closest to Goten and his family, knowing that the taller members of this unique group acted as a convenient shield. She had never been comfortable in the limelight, although one would never know it considering how she was presently dressed; sporting a red designer dress with a slit up one tanned thigh, knee high Italian leather boots and wearing dazzling jewelry that could probably buy off the school. Holding onto her hand was little Bra, four years old and unusually subdued as she absorbed every detail of the pomp and circumstance with her huge, blue eyes.

Vegeta stood beside them and, like his wife, also looked like he had stepped out of some fashion catalog, dressed in a black formal leather coat, slacks, and silk shirt and tie. Everyone was surprised he was here and, honestly, he wished he could be home and free of this ridiculous farce; he had already gone through it a year before with his own son. But Goten had personally asked him to come and the Saiyan prince had endured way too much of the boy's bullshit over the last decade to be able to successfully turn him down.

Beside him stood their son, Trunks. He had let his hair grow during his teenage years and now had it tied back in an attractive pony tail. He looked extremely comfortable in a casual suit with jeans and smiled easily at his best friend, one year his junior. "He'll be here. Just give him a few more minutes, Goten."

The teen adjusted his mortarboard and puffed air at the annoying tassel and plucked at his gown with nervous fingers. Finally, he cast an urgent glance at his mother and said with amazing venom, "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He missed my birthday, too. I guess Uub's just more interesting than I am."

"Goten!" ChiChi admonished. "Your father is simply wrapped up in training the poor boy. You know full well how he, well... he forgets sometimes..."

"I know. He forgot to come and visit the seven years he spent partying in the afterlife," the boy shot back. "You'd think he'd try to make up for it but noooo. He decided to abandon us a few short years after he came back by going to train a complete stranger!"

There was the sound of applause and heads turned to see Vegeta, with a deadpan expression on his face, clapping at the speech. Bulma came up beside him and grabbed his arm. "Don't make this any worse than it already is," she hissed at him.

"Hey, after all these years of being dismissed as the resident bad man, I intend to enjoy the moment," he shot back. "Kakarrot's always been an inconsiderate clown. I'm amazed it's taken all of you this long to notice it."

"Vegeta..." Piccolo said in a cautionary tone.

"He's right," Goten said sadly.

ChiChi immediately whirled around, her dark eyes practically bulging in shock. _"Goten!"_ she squawked. "How can you say such a thing?!"

"Then where is he, mom?" the teen shot back, extending his arms. "He's not _here_, that's for sure!"

"Give him some time-"

"I've given him my entire life!"

As the pair faced off, an elderly man with a terrible toupee came up and nervously asked, "Is everything alright here?"

"Don't worry. This is normal," Krillin chimed in with a broad smile.

"Everything's fine, Mr. Stockley," Goten murmured, dropping his eyes in embarrassment.

The teacher took note of the strange-looking guests, swallowed, and said to Goten, "Go get in line with the rest of the class, please. We're about to begin."

"See? What did I tell you?!" the teen said in frustration and stalked away to join his classmates.

Piccolo cast Gohan a glance and the young man swung his head around and regarded his former mentor. They stared at each other for perhaps a good ten seconds before the hybrid excused himself and followed the huge Namek around to the back of the building. They were quickly joined by Krillin, Yamcha, Tien, and Chiaotzu.

"Is there any chance that the Flying Nimbus could pick him up and transport him here in time?" the little monk asked hopefully.

"No chance," Piccolo rumbled. "The damned thing travels too slow anyway. Goku's more than two thousand kilometers away!"

"Does he have a cell phone?" Tien offered.

Gohan shook his head. "He says they're too complicated to figure out. Besides, Uub's entire village is so remote there wouldn't be any coverage anyway."

"None of us is fast enough to fly there and tell him to use his Instant Transmission to come back here in time," Yamcha said. "Gohan, can you reach him telepathically?"

The young man shook his head. "It's way too far for me. The only one who might be able to establish a link is..."

"Me," said a cold voice. The group turned and saw Vegeta leaning against the side of the building with his arms crossed. "And all of you should know better than to even ask."

"For God's sake, Vegeta!" Piccolo thundered. "This is Goten we're all concerned about. Can't you put aside your petty rivalry with Goku for one second and think about someone other than yourself for a change?"

"This isn't about me," Vegeta corrected him. "Every time that dimwit drops the ball, you all scramble to pick it up for him."

"That's a crock and you know it," Tien said, raising himself to his full height and relishing how the small alien had to cock his head to the side to fix him his usual sullen glare.

"Oh really?" Vegeta said with a deliberate smirk. "I seem to recall you died because that idiot was late the first time I made landfall, or have you forgotten that wonderful day?"

All three of the huge fighter's eyes narrowed in spite at the mere reminder. He couldn't believe the Saiyan prick actually had the audacity to make jokes about the day he had invaded Earth and damn near killed them all. Through clenched teeth he changed tactics and managed to say instead: "Helping Goku's family is the least we can do for a hero who's selflessly saved this planet!"

"I've got an update for you, freak. He's also saved the planet-" Vegeta cocked his thumb at Gohan, "and I have, too, and you don't see anyone trying to make excuses for us. That's because we take care of our own. Family first. Then this stupid planet. Not that someone like _you_-" he dropped his eyes to the fighter's constant companion, "-would ever understand that."

Tien took a menacing step forward and the Saiyan stood his ground. Before any blows could fall, Krillin stepped in between them. "Fighting isn't going to get Goku here any faster. Vegeta, can you reach him with your mind?"

The Saiyan crossed his arms and looked away with a sniff.

"Please, Vegeta," Gohan prompted. Of any of them, he was probably the only one who could persuade the alien into action.

"No," Vegeta admitted after a long pause. "I can sense him but I can't reach him directly. The distance is too great."

Tien couldn't put old grudges to rest. "Useful as usual," he grumbled.

The Saiyan lifted his upper lip in a sneer and then turned his back on them to look at the crowd of spectators. The Junior High band had started playing (badly, as usual) and everyone was getting settled in their seats and readying their camcorders, digital cameras, and cell phones to record the spectacle. Bulma was seated next to Trunks, and Bra moved over to where the rest of her odd friends were seated and the three girls giggled among themselves as if sharing secrets of the universe. It was quite a sight and one that made Vegeta pause and think. In the last fifteen years all of the children born to the different families of their unique circle had been female and it seemed to possess some sort of significance that was lost on him. He couldn't deny his daughter's affect on him, either. Even now his anger at Tien faded away as he watched Bra stand up in her seat and look around for him. He felt a desperate ping in his mind, an indication of the girl's fledgling telepathic rapport, and gently sent back, _- I'll be there soon. Patience._

"Hurry poppa!" she screamed, turning heads.

Vegeta winced. _So much like her mother..._

In the background, the members of the Earth's Special Forces were still plotting strategies that were absolutely useless in the limited time that they had. Krillin tried to reach King Kai but only got back the equivalent of an ephemeral answering machine message that said the eccentric ruler was off playing Go! with the Kais from the other three quadrants. Piccolo asked Dende for any suggestions and the young God of Earth sought out Korin for advice but the cat was recovering from a disastrous flea dip and wasn't much help. Neither was Yajirobe. No surprise there.

Tuning them out, Vegeta went back to regarding the graduation ceremony. The teachers were taking their places on the stage behind the podium and the principal started droning on about the present generation and the achievements the students had made over the last year. Vegeta couldn't comprehend the majority of the implications; he had never endured anything remotely resembling high school but he understood that the purpose of this graduation ceremony seemed to mark an important transition in the life of a teenager: the move from group subservience to individual independence. He could understand that, hell, he could even appreciate it. He, himself, hadn't been free of Frieza's dominance until he had been thirty. No wonder these teenagers went crazy the instant they got their diploma: Freedom, independence, and limitless options and all at the immature age of eighteen. He was almost jealous.

"-The nearest village to Uub's is thirty klicks away? Are you serious?" Yamcha cried in dismay. "So much for sending a runner to carry a message over to him. What about-"

_Fools_, Vegeta thought. The principal called the first student, Samuel Anderson, and the youth tripped on the first step, recovered, and climbed the rest without incident. It was clear he was nervous. He accepted the rolled up diploma, shook the principal's hand, moved the tassel to the left, and then waved at the audience (most likely at his family) as he exited the stage.

Soon this was going to be Goten's honor and all of his friends and family were in attendance except for the one that mattered most to the youth: That insufferable, absent-minded, gullible goofball of a father. It amazed Vegeta that someone so concerned about the well-being of strangers could treat his own family so badly. ChiChi was a bitch, there was no denying it, but Gohan was an amazing young man and his daughter looked to be a chip off of the block. Goten was naïve but not stupid and his time around Trunks and the rest of the Briefs family had imprinted on the teenager just how a 'real' family was supposed to act (even if it was household comprised of a spoiled heiress, an alien prince, and their colorful hybrid children). The teenager also saw how his older brother successfully coped with his family life. He had every right to feel resentful and betrayed.

_It was puzzling..._ Goku had singled out Uub right from the start and his decision to train him was rooted more out of a desire for a worthy sparring partner (at this, Vegeta bristled with indignant rage) than to help out the poor African kid. It had been a selfish act to leave his family at the tournament and it made the Saiyan wonder just how much of the aborted Potara Fusion was to blame*. Since the Majin Buu incident, Vegeta had become the home-body and Goku had become the traveler. It was quite the role-reversal, that's for sure.

"Amy Beaton," called the principal.

"Gohan," Vegeta called over his shoulder. "How large is Goten's class?"

Confused by the sudden attention, Gohan stammered out, "I'm not really sure. Two hundred students, maybe two-fifty. Why?"

Vegeta didn't answer. He watched the student named Amy Beaton accept her diploma, exchange a little idle banter with the principal, and leave. The entire process took about a minute and a half. "Shit," he said under his breath and turned around, walking over to the group. He shrugged out of his leather coat and threw it at Yamcha. "Make yourself useful and hold that."

"What's going on?" Gohan pressed, recognizing that the older Saiyan seemed to be readying himself for action. Nobody could understand it, even with flight the fastest journey would take over an hour.

Loosening his tie, Vegeta snarled, "Not one word of this to my woman, understand? If she finds out she'll drag my ass to every damned craft fair on this entire planet!"

"What are you going to do?" Piccolo demanded.

"I'm going to bring back your hero," Vegeta said and pressed two fingers to his forehead and closed his eyes. A few seconds later he winked out sight.

The entire group went mute with shock. The Saiyan prince had just used Instant Transmission.

"Son of a bitch," Piccolo finally spoke up, but he was smiling.

* * *

_To be continued..._

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* Fanfic reference: "MIRROR, MIRROR"


	2. Chapter 2

A Perfect Day © 2009 Darke Angelus

Part Two

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The last time Vegeta set foot in Africa had been during his honeymoon and it hadn't left a favorable impression. He had been blinded by an explosion, attacked by a horny rhino, and had suffered extreme intestinal discomfort from scrambled ostrich eggs.* Bulma practically went into hysterics whenever she told the tale and it wasn't a brand of humor that the Saiyan shared. As far as he was concerned, he could have happily gone on with the rest of his life without the necessity of ever coming here again.

His battle sense screamed warning and he ducked just in time to avoid a body flying over him. Uub landed a few feet away, his bare feet skidding along the ground and leaving trenches in the dry sand as he tried to keep his balance. Obviously flight was still something he hadn't yet mastered. "You appeared right out of no where," the youth marveled. "Who are you?"

Ignoring him, Vegeta craned his head up at the rapidly approaching orange speck in the sky. A few seconds later, Goku was hovering a few feet overhead. "Hey Vegeta!"

"...Kakarrot," he greeted tersely.

The fighter landed next to him, grinning ear to ear despite the fact that there was dried blood smeared across his left cheek and his clothes were ripped and dirty. "Wow! I never even saw you fly here. Have you come to spar?"

"No, I-"

"Do you two know each other?" Uub interrupted, coming up beside the pair.

"Kakarrot, listen-"

"Yeah! I told you all about him, Uub. This here is Vegeta!"

"Look! I didn't come here to-"

"Pleased to meet you! Any friend of Goku's is a friend of mine," Uub said with a broad grin and grabbed the frustrated Saiyan's hand and shook it in that unmistakable gesture of good will.

It was the wrong thing to do and definitely the wrong thing to say.

"I've wanted to do this the first time I laid eyes on you, brat," Vegeta growled and lashed out with a side snap kick that nailed the boy in the face. Uub went flying backwards about twenty feet and landed in a daze, his nose spouting blood.

"Vegeta! What are you doing?!" Goku cried in dismay. He reached out to the other Saiyan and before he could react, Vegeta grabbed him by the wrist and seconds later the two appeared beside Goku's house, startling the Ox King who was weeding the garden.

"Holy smokes!" the huge giant shouted, falling over and crushing most of the small tomato plants. "You could give a guy some warning, you know!" He clutched his chest for dramatic effect.

Goku was looking at his smaller rival with shock. "How-"

Vegeta quickly shook his head. "No time for explanations. Goten is going to be up on the stage in about forty minutes. That should give you some time to get cleaned up and change out of that clown costume you like so damned much."

"Goten?"

"Your son, idiot. Today is his graduation. I don't need to ask if you've forgotten."

Goku's face had started to darken from the Saiyan's insults but now reddened deeper from embarrassment. "Oh holy heck! It completely slipped my mind-"

"No shit. _Hurry up!_" the Saiyan shouted.

Goku obediently trotted into the small country home and Vegeta lingered, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Sinuses botherin' you, huh?" the Ox King inquired.

Vegeta squinted at him. "What?"

"It's all this pollen," the huge man continued, waving one beefy arm. "The dandelions are everywhere this time of year. I try to pull what I can but they're all around the house, and the barn, and the-"

Turning his back on the man, Vegeta went into the house to escape the absent-minded narration. He wasn't in the mood. Once he stepped in through the door, he hesitated. It had been at least ten years since he had crossed the threshold to this quaint little cottage and it immediately made him feel slightly claustrophobic. Storage units on the Capsule Corporation grounds were bigger than this two bedroom hovel.

The front door opened up into the living room with the kitchen on the opposite side. There was the aroma of baked bread still lingering from breakfast with a hint of cinnamon and the smell helped to calm Vegeta's frayed nerves. He walked in a few steps further, curiously looking around. It seemed that all available wall space was crammed either with pictures of the family or shelves of meaningless bric-a-brac. All of the furniture looked out of date, scuffed, and well-used. Despite the limited space it actually looked homey; the perfect place for a simple, country upbringing (_filled with simple, country bumpkins,_ he thought privately).

"It was the Potara Fusion, wasn't it?" Goku asked, startling him. He had already taken a quick shower (more of a rinse than anything else) and was standing in the hallway drying his hair with a towel. He wasn't wearing anything else.

Averting his eyes, Vegeta nodded. "I learned the Instant Transmission technique during our fusion, yes."

"And you never used it before now?"

"I tried it solo a few times," the Saiyan said vaguely and finally glared at him. "You were the first time I transported cargo. Are you going like that or would you prefer to put on some clothes?"

"Uh, clothes. Definitely clothes!" Dabbing at his body with the towel, the taller fighter disappeared out of sight, presumably to the bedroom he had once shared with his mate. Despite himself, Vegeta wandered down the hallway and caught sight of a room with more pictures and quaint memorabilia, with a bed that had a dazzling hand-stitched quilt spread across it. The décor was distinctly female and the Saiyan wondered when the last time the other man had graced the room.

Then he wondered why he even bothered to care.

It took some searching to find where ChiChi had put his clothes and while he dressed, Goku said, "I had a string on my finger to remind me that there was something important to remember but I forgot what it was. I'm really glad you came to get me, Vegeta."

"Hnh," the Saiyan grunted, he was rubbing his temples.

"I take it the gang's all there?"

"... Unfortunately."

"Great! It'll be nice to see them all again."

"And what then, Kakarrot?" Vegeta found himself asking.

Goku popped his head out of the door. "What do you mean?"

"Are you going to stick around or are you going to go back to training that skinny brat in Africa?"

The Earth-raised Saiyan looked genuinely puzzled. "Well, I promised Uub I would train him. It would be pretty rude of me not to go back-"

"You don't need me here anymore," Vegeta suddenly announced. "You can transport your own ass when you've finished getting dressed."

"Vegeta? What-"

The Saiyan pressed his fingers to his forehead and closed his eyes. He homed in on Piccolo's ki signature and there was a nauseating sense of displacement as he initiated the physical transfer. When he opened his eyes again, he was back at the school grounds with the rest of the fighters standing around him. He took one wandering step backwards before catching his balance.

"Well? Where is he?" Tien demanded.

Gohan thought that the smaller man looked paler in complexion than when he had first left. "Vegeta, are you-"

The Saiyan cut in with; "Your sorry excuse for a father will be here as soon as he-"

Goku suddenly appeared next to him. "Hi everybody!" he said cheerfully. "Long time no see."

"Idiot," Gohan heard the other fighter grumble under his breath. Vegeta snatched his coat from Yamcha's hands and stalked away to join his family. The young hybrid stared after him for a troubled pause before turning to his father. "Dad, how could you forget?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It doesn't really matter now anyway, I'm here," Goku said with a laugh. "Let's go and take our seats. Won't ChiChi be surprised to see me, huh?"

As they quickly returned to their seats, Piccolo lingered back and returned to the rooftop to watch the rest of the ceremony. Not for the first time, he figured that Vegeta was right in his judgment: Goku, quite possibly the most powerful fighter in the universe and one of the most good-natured persons on the planet, _was_ an idiot.

The instant Vegeta appeared in sight, the massed paparazzi began a flurry of movement and the sound of shutter clicks and shouted questions began immediately. It was a rare time when he left the Capsule Corp. grounds for a public appearance, so when the coveted name of "Badger" (the Saiyan's code name to the photogs) came up on their cell phones, they all hustled to catch a rare shot.

He instinctively swung his arm around in their direction, his first two fingers glowing, and snatched his hand back with a curse. _Twenty years on Earth and old habits still ruled._ He couldn't fry the bastards' cameras with an electromagnetic pulse either, or run the risk ruining the memories of about five hundred proud parents. In the end he simply gave them the finger and took his seat next to Bulma. Bra immediately climbed into his lap (giving his crotch a good jab with her knee) and flashed him one of her adoring smiles before turning to watch the graduation. It almost made the whole ordeal worth while.

_... Almost._

Bulma leaned over and whispered, "Where were you?"

He inclined his thumb to the right and she turned her head and saw ChiChi standing up and hugging Goku. "I'll be damned. He came after all," she commented with a laugh. "It's just like him to show up in the nick of time, isn't it? Goten will be so happy!" she waved and laughed again when her old friend waved back.

Vegeta didn't bother with a response. He stayed quiet for the rest of the ceremony, often closing his eyes for longer than a blink.

When it was Goten's turn to approach the dais, he was so nervous he thought he might throw up. Or faint. Both scenarios were terrifying. The two steps up to the stage looked like two stories and the staring faces of his principal and teachers seemed to bore straight through him. Added to the mix were the five hundred strangers in the audience who would be watching every movement he made the second his name was announced. Everyone was still snickering about how Sam Anderson had tripped going up for his diploma, and Jason Reddick had just tripped on the gown exiting the stage on the other side and fallen on his face.

_Am I gonna be sick, pass out, or fall on my butt?_ He wondered uneasily, wiping his damp hands back and forth on his gown. He didn't want to embarrass himself in front of his classmates but he didn't want to make a fool out of himself in front of his father's friends either. It was no secret that he was the spitting image of Goku. His mother and Krillin commented on it all the time. Actually, the resemblance between them at that age was uncanny, but it was there that the similarities ended. The last thing he wanted was to make an ass of himself and have Piccolo and the other's think; _Yeah, there's a chip off the old block._ He desperately loved his father, but he was angry at him at the same time and had made his choice years ago not to follow in his footsteps.

Fighting was not the teenager's sole ambition in life. He was good at it, and had that innate alien potential but lacked the hunger for battle that his father and Vegeta thrived on; both being pure-blooded Saiyans. Like his hybrid counterparts, Goten was interested in other pursuits and architecture was one of them. He had sent out several applications to universities and had been accepted at the Western Capital University, a fact that had his mother ecstatic. He was sure that he would be able to get a job at one of Bulma's factories, and that would sure beat wearing a paper hat and working for minimum wage.

Despite his poor, country upbringing, he liked the city and enjoyed its fast pace and excitement. Growing up with Trunks Briefs, the richest kid in the world, had helped to cement that attachment. Goten loved going to Capsule Corp. and hanging out with his best friend's family. It was amazing the freedom that Bulma and Vegeta afforded to their two children and their verbal spars were actually entertaining and always seemed to end in a mutually accepted draw. Goten had great respect for the older Saiyan that went far beyond what Trunks and Gohan had told him over the years. What he saw was a man who stayed with his family and treated them with respect. It was more than what his own father bothered to do, that was for sure.

"Goten Son," came the principal's voice over the loudspeaker.

_Show time,_ the young hybrid thought. He took a deep breath and emerged from the curtain, his eyes focused solely on the principal.

"There he is! That's my son! _Yay Goten!"_ cheered a voice he immediately recognized.

Turning his head, he saw his father standing up with the rest of his family, holding onto Pan who was clapping. He broke out into a broad grin and immediately forgot about all of his earlier apprehensions. He hopped onto the stage, accepted his diploma, and exited without any fuss or embarrassment.

Twenty-five minutes later it was all over and the grads and their families were milling around outside on the grounds, taking pictures, cheering, and scheming where to get liquor for the upcoming parties. Goten posed for a few shots with his classmates and eventually wandered back to where his family had positioned themselves, predictably near the buffet table. Piccolo, Tien and Chatzo had offered their congratulations and quickly made their exits. They didn't like being surrounded by civilians at the best of times, let alone hyper teen-aged ones.

Goten singled out his father, who was guzzling down the punch, and slapped him on the back. "I'm really glad you made it," he said, and blushed when his voice cracked with suppressed emotion. It had been almost a year since he'd last seen the man.

"I wouldn't have missed this for the world," Goku said. "I'm sorry I was late."

"You came. That's all that matters," the teen said with a relieved smile and hugged him.

Watching from the sidelines, Bulma turned to Vegeta and said, "I'm going to give Goten his graduation present. Coming?"

The Saiyan shook his head. "I'm going home. I've seen enough of this bullshit."

She let out a frustrated exhale of breath. "Oh, for heaven's sake! You've been sulking like a little kid ever since Goku showed up! Can't you stop being jealous of him for just one, single afternoon?"

He glared at her with a brilliant flash of anger in his raven-black eyes and suddenly took to the air and set a direct course home. Heads turned up in shock at the unexpected exit and there was a babble of conversation among the uninitiated. To the paparazzi, "Badger" had clearly made his departure and the photographers began to pack up to hunt for their next target.

"Poppa?!" Bra called, watching until he disappeared from sight.

"It's all right, sweetie," Bulma soothed. "You're going to stay here with me."

"But why'd poppa leave?"

"Because your poppa's being a selfish grouch."

The little girl's brow furrowed, trying to process this information. "But he isn't! He-" before she could finish her protest, Marron came trotting over and yanked on her arm. "Bra! Dad's taking pictures and we need you over here!"

"Oh! Okay," Bra said, immediately losing her train of thought, and scampered away to where Krillin was trying to organize everyone for a group shot for his personal album. It was haphazard chaos and Bulma found herself pressed up beside Android 18 (an Ice Queen if there ever was one). Two pairs of blue eyes glanced at one another before turning back to where the little monk was trying to figure out the timer. After several shots of his backside, he managed to get one actually facing the camera with the rest of his friends and family.

When that ordeal was over, Bulma gave Goten his present. The tall teenager eyed the Hoi Poi capsule in his hand with wide, slightly fevered eyes. "Is this what I think it is?" he dared to ask.

"See for yourself," she laughed.

He told everyone to move to the side and pressed the trigger and threw it to the ground. When the smoke cleared, sitting on the grass was one of Capsule Corp.'s premier sport hover cars, just hot off the assembly line. The rest of the grads began to mill around and stare at the shining red vehicle in disbelief and envy. ChiChi looked at the graduation card she had in her purse, with a crumpled twenty-zeni bill in the envelope as her present, and stared at Bulma with clear resentment.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" The teenager immediately jumped in behind the wheel and started the engine. It had a bass purr like some sleek jungle cat. "Thanks Bulma!"

"It's from me _and_ Vegeta," she said, kissing his cheek. "Happy graduation."

"Hey, where is he so I can thank him?" Goten stood up in the seat and looked around.

"He left early, hon. This isn't his scene." She added a dramatic roll of the eyes to her statement.

"Oh," the teen's face fell slightly but he continued to grin. "Well, at least he came to the ceremony. Right dad?"

Goku nodded easily. "That's right, son. We wouldn't have missed this for anything."

Standing in the background, Gohan's face tightened when he heard his father's words but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

For now.

When the crowd began to disperse, everyone ended up at the Son family home for an informal gathering. Pan took the other two girls for a tour of the farm while the adults milled around the tables that ChiChi had set with many of her extravagant dishes. Predictably, Goku was quickly filling his plate explaining that he hadn't any decent food for ages.

"Well, you could always use that Instant whatchacallit to come back here for meals," ChiChi huffed.

"I get the time differences all mixed up," he said through a mouthful of dumplings.

"Wear a watch!"

"It always gets smashed when I spar."

"You're supposed to take it _off_ before you fight."

"But then I'd forget where I put it-"

"Agh! I give up!" she said, flailing her arms and retreating back to the sanctity of her kitchen.

"I see your mom hasn't changed," Goku remarked to his eldest son.

"No, but you sure have," Gohan said in a low voice. "If it hadn't been for Vegeta you'd still be in Africa with Uub."

"Like I told him, Gohan; Time gets away from me. I'm sorry-"

"Dad, I'm tired of hearing your apologies. You need to make more of an effort to pop in for a visit. Mom misses you and there's your own grand-daughter to consider-"

"Well, you can train her-"

"That isn't the point!" Gohan suddenly shouted and looked around as everyone went strikingly quiet, staring at them. They darted around to the back of the house to continue their conversation in private. "Is it so hard for you to understand that your family loves you and misses you whenever you disappear on... on whims like this?"

"Training Uub is very important, Gohan."

"Why?"

"He's the reincarnation of Evil Buu," the fighter explained. "It was part of my wish on the Grand Kai's planet before I destroyed him with the Spirit Bomb. I wanted him to come back as someone good who I could train and spar with. He's my responsibility."

Gohan couldn't believe what he was hearing. "That's the reason you abandoned your family? So you could have a second chance to fight him?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"What the hell's wrong with fighting me? Or Vegeta? Or Gotenks?" There was a desperate note to Gohan's voice that neither had heard before. "Why did you have to turn to a complete stranger for kicks?"

Goku seriously thought about the question for a minute and then offered the younger man a lame shrug. "I guess I didn't think it through very well."

"It's selfish, do you know that? Goten has had you for a father for less than half of his life. You forgot his last birthday and he still worships you. If he knew that you had forgotten his graduation, I think it would crush him. Thank god Vegeta was able to go get you!"

"Yeah, remind me to thank him for that."

"I wouldn't bother. He's angry at you. More than I've seen in a very long time. And there's something else... Is Instant Transmission painful to do?"

"Painful? No, I wouldn't say that but it's very draining," Goku admitted. "That's why it took so many months of training on Yardrat to get it just right before I returned to Earth."

"Vegeta looked pretty rough when he got back to the school," the younger man considered.

"Really? I hadn't noticed. Pretty impressive though, huh? Boy, you should have seen the look on my face when he transported me home!" he burst out laughing.

Gohan sighed. There was going to be no miraculous realization on his father's part that he'd done anything wrong today. Goku simply lived for the moment and didn't dwell on past regrets or future repercussions. It was how he'd always been and always would act and no one, not even his family, would ever be able to change that. "Welcome back, dad," he said, not unkindly, and slapped his father on the shoulder and went to join the others around the food table.

He found Bulma fuming down at her cell phone. "Is everything alright?"

"I tried calling Vegeta to tell him we'll be late. He changed his voicemail message to say: _'Start bitching after the beep'_. Damn that man!"

Gohan threw his head back and laughed long and hard. At least some people never changed and the older Saiyan's penchant for ticking off Bulma was still a source of some much needed amusement.

"I swear, when I get home-"

"Go easy on him," Gohan managed to say, still snickering. "He really came through for Goten today."

This was news to her. "What do you mean?"

"Dad forgot Goten's graduation," Gohan said, sobering at the reminder. "Vegeta managed to-" _go and get him here_, he almost said but caught himself in time. "-contact him and remind him to attend the ceremony."

"All the way to Africa? I didn't know he would be capable of erecting a rapport that far."

"I don't think it was easy. He didn't look too steady when dad finally showed up." That, at least, was the truth.

"Ah, damn it and I accused him of being jealous. No wonder he took off," she muttered, angry at herself. She should have known that there was more to Vegeta wanting to leave than just petty resentment. "I think I'm going to be cutting this visit short after all, Gohan."

"No worries. After all, the reason we're all gathered here is off test-driving his new graduation present anyway. I don't think he'll notice."

Bulma's teal eyebrows knitted together in thought. "Goten came back a while ago. There's the car, see?"

Gohan whirled around and sure enough, the brand new present was sitting in the driveway. "Uh oh," he muttered, looking around for his younger brother. The teen was nowhere to be seen-

-because he was in the back bedroom where he had been considering his wardrobe for a party with some of his schoolmates later in the evening. He had heard the voices of his brother and father coming from the open window and keen hearing easily picked out the words, _"-forgot his last birthday and he still worships you. If he knew that you had forgotten his graduation, I think it would crush him. Thank god Vegeta was able to go get you!"_

It felt as if all of the blood in his body had run cold. He sat heavily down on the bed and put his face in his hands. When he finally raised his head, his eyes burned with unshed tears. He was through weeping for his errant father. Those days were over. "Wouldn't have missed it for the world, my ass," he said bitterly. He wasn't sure what hurt more: The truth or the lies.

Goten decided to go visit the only person he knew who believed in saying exactly what was on his mind. Right now, he desperately needed to hear that version of brutal honesty.

* * *

_To be continued..._

_________________________________

* Fanfic reference: "A DRAGONBALL HONEYMOON": Chapters Eight & Nine


	3. Chapter 3

A Perfect Day © 2009 Darke Angelus

Part Three

* * *

"What do you mean he isn't in the house?" Gohan asked his mother.

"That's what I said," she said, placing her hands on her hips in anticipation of a conflict. Her favorite ladle was clenched in her left hand. "I checked all the rooms. He's not in here."

"Ah crap," the young man said under his breath. The new car was still in the yard and the teen was nowhere to be found. It took a bare amount of ki to fly and he couldn't get a lock on his brother's whereabouts. He turned towards the buffet. "Dad, can you sense where he might have gone?"

Goku paused long enough to stop chewing and concentrated for moment. He shook his head. "I don't sense he's here, that's about all," he said and went back to eating.

Passing him a sharp look, the young fighter went over to Bulma who was engrossed in a riveting conversation with Android 18. They were discussing robotics and the exchange was getting quite heated. Krillin's eyes were ticking back and forth between the pair, wondering when it would be a good time to step in and separate them.

"-how dare you insinuate that I'm made with sub-par components. I'm state-of-the-art!" the blond snapped.

"You were, once, but Dr. Gero put you away in stasis remember?" Bulma shot back, not intimidated in the least from this 'woman'. "He did that because of your glitches."

"Glitches! What are you talking about?"

"Well, the emotional detachment for starters. You really need twice the amount of processing power you presently have to grasp the nuances of emotions, let alone to successfully project convincing behavior. I suspect your main problem is-"

"My only problem is with you!" Android 18 shouted in her face and grasped Krillin's arm as she stalked off across the lawn. "Come on, Krillin. It's time to find Marron and get out of here."

"Uh, sure honey-muffin!" the little monk said meekly. He offered Bulma a one-arm shrug and humbly submitted to his daunting wife.

"Defective machinery," Bulma sniffed. "No class at all." She noticed Gohan for the first time and saw the urgent look on his face. "Hey, don't worry. She wouldn't have attacked me. I think."

"That's not the problem," the young man said. "I think Goten overheard my conversation with dad and he might be headed to Capsule Corp. to talk to Vegeta. Can you give him a head's up?"

She dug out her coveted blackberry. "He'll still have his cell set to voicemail but I'll contact Penny. She'll get a message to him one way or the other." She called her personal assistant's number and waited for the other woman to pick up the phone. "Hi Penny, I need you to run a message over to Vegeta. Yes, I know he needs to keep his cell phone turned on. Yes, I know you're my secretary. Not his," Bulma rolled her eyes dramatically at Gohan who had to betray a smile at the theatrics. "What's that? The infirmary wants me call them? Put me through, will you?"

The heiress's face tightened up with concern and her body language changed as she waited impatiently for the call to be rerouted. Standing next to her, Gohan's previous level of anxiety heightened as he heard her side of the exchange: "It's Bulma, what's wrong? He- _what?_ How long ago was that? So he's resting now? Good. I'm coming straight home. Call me if his condition changes."

She turned off the phone and Gohan asked immediately, "What's wrong?"

"Vegeta's in the infirmary right now doped up on enough painkillers to knock down a herd of elephants," she said quickly, looking around for Bra. "I don't know what he did to get Goku back here but it left him a wreck."

Gohan submerged a pang of guilt. "He used Instant Transmission," he admitted.

The heiress snapped her head around to stare at him. "That's Goku's technique! He learned it on planet Yardrat."

"Vegeta learned it from their fusion, but I don't think he's had much practice using it. I'm sorry I lied to you, Bulma."

"No doubt because he wanted you to keep this from me. It's not your fault," she fretted. "Give Goten my best when you see him."

"I will," the young man said and watched her jog over to the barn where she had last caught sight of her daughter. Android 18 and Krillin were already over there wrangling Marron away from a baby goat she had fallen in love with and wanted to take home with them.

"That creature stays here. We already live with one smelly old goat," the blond snapped to her teenaged daughter, obviously referring to Master Roshi who was something of a strain on the couple's relationship because of his perversions.

"_But moooom-"_ Marron's tears were lost on her mother who grabbed her arm and pulled her, and her husband, away. The android cast Bulma a resentful glance over her shoulder as she marched over to their hovercar but the heiress ignored her, intent on her daughter as she knelt down to face her directly. "Bra, we're going home."

The little girl looked back at her with wide, inquisitive blue eyes. "It's poppa, isn't it?"

That caught Bulma by surprise. "What makes you say that?"

"His thoughts were all dark purples and reds right before he left, like a ugly ol' bruise. Is he okay?"

"I'm sure he'll be fine," she said, skirting the issue. The perceptions of her hybrid offspring never ceased to amaze her and the fact that Bra had sensed her father's distress while she had been oblivious made her feel acutely guilty. As she dug in her purse for her hoverjet capsule, Goku came sauntering over, having caught some of the exchange. He was chewing on a fried chicken leg. "Hey, if you need to get home in a hurry, I can transport you," he said with his usual easy-going manner.

Bulma hesitated, torn between loyalties. She had been friends with the younger man since she had been sixteen and running the roads looking for the Dragonballs. He had always been naïve, a tad forgetful, loyal to a fault, and friendly. He was also the reason that her husband of eighteen years was now in a drug-induced coma.

Bra broke the stalemate. She stamped over and kicked the Saiyan in the left ankle. "My poppa was fine 'til you showed up, you big jerk!"

"Ow!" Goku dropped the drumstick and began hopping up and down on one foot.

"_Bra!"_ Bulma grabbed her daughter's hand while throwing the capsule with the other. It landed on the ground a few feet away, exploded in spray of smoke, and revealed the heiress's prized yellow hoverjet. She dragged the child towards it while she said, "Sorry! We can get home by ourselves. Thanks anyway."

"Oh holy crow, that girl can kick," Goku said, wiping a tear from his eye. He sat down in the grass and removed his boot. His wounded foot was swelling noticeably.

_Good for you, _Gohan thought privately, watching Bulma's hoverjet race into the sky.

* * *

"I don't know what you expect me to say," Piccolo said gruffly, staring out at the dazzling blue sky from his perch atop Dende's Lookout. "I'm not his advocate. I'm not even his friend."

"And that's why I came here to talk to you," Goten said, sitting beside him. "You're neutral."

"Why not talk to Vegeta?"

"I like Vegeta and all, and I respect him, but he still thinks like an alien-"

"And I don't?!" the huge Namek growled, baring his fangs.

The young teenager was not intimidated in the least. "You know what I mean," he said. "Vegeta spent thirty years out in space before ever coming here. He still thinks like a Saiyan, not an earthling. You, Piccolo; you've always been on earth. You've known my dad since he was my age."

"-and tried to kill him, too," the green alien muttered.

"Well, yeah, there's _that_, but you came around thanks to Gohan."

"Uhm."

"So I'll ask again: Why does everyone like dad so much even when he can be such an insensitive jerk?"

Piccolo paused, collecting his thoughts. He knew it wasn't going to be good news when Goku's youngest son showed up at the Lookout. The huge Namek could count on one hand how often that happened and it hadn't been for sparring sessions, like with Gohan. Goten was obsessed with learning all that he could about his father, who he regarded as a hero. Or at least, he _had_. It appeared that the infatuation was finally wearing off. The emerald-colored fighter resolved not to hold back any punches. It was time the teenager heard the truth. "Because nothing fazes him. Insults just roll off him like water off a duck's ass. He's so lucky that I'd swear he shits four leaf clovers and lucky rabbit's feet. That kind of personality is infectious because it's so damned rare so he just... draws you in until the next thing you know, you're fighting along side of him instead of against him."

"So it has to do with battle," the youth sighed. "I shouldn't be surprised." It had been over ten years since their Majin Buu escapade and since then, peace had reined on the Earth. It was really all that Goten knew, unlike his older counterparts.

"Yes and no. When Vegeta invaded the earth, your father was late showing up and Yamcha, Tien, Chatzoa and I all died because of it-"

Goten sat bolt upright and his eyes bugged out in shock. His brother and Trunks had certainly never mentioned anything like _that_. "Vegeta killed you guys?!"

"No," Piccolo admitted, amused as the teen slumped back on his hands in relief. "It was his bodyguard. A Saiyan Elite named Nappa."

"A _bodyguard_? Why the heck would he need-"

"Don't ask me, ask him, if he's approachable to that particular topic. What I'm trying to say is that Goku was late, we died, and in the end he saved the day. It was the same thing on Namek. The Androids. Majin Buu. Your father has an amazing knack for popping in when he's most needed, playing the selfless hero, and disappearing again. How can anyone _really_ hate a guy like that?"

"But he abandoned mom, Gohan, and me. Why would he do that?"

"Because you're boring," Piccolo said bluntly. "Your father has the attention span of a hummingbird. He needs to keep busy, see new sights, new people, help complete strangers. Training and fighting are the most important things to him. You and the rest of your family come in dead last."

"Don't say it's a Saiyan thing," Gohan said, his cheeks flushing scarlet with suppressed anger. He knew Piccolo would be honest and not hold anything back but hearing the words still hurt like blazes. "Vegeta hasn't budged from Capsule Corp. for almost twenty years!"

"Those two are as different as night and day. Your father has never known loss or hardship so he takes his life and his family for granted. Vegeta was smart to recognize a good thing when he started a relationship with Bulma. That woman has saved his life in more ways than I'll ever speculate and because of that, he's completely devoted to her and their family."

Goten considered the explanation and became lost in thought. His father had come back from the afterlife after he turned seven, so he was old enough to remember how his parents had interacted from that point on onwards. It just seemed to be during meals, when the family was all together, that his mom and dad actually spoke to one another. Things were strained, that much was for sure, but his dad never seemed to react to ChiChi's complaints or clipped words. At night, his father sometimes shared the bedroom with her but just as often he was apt to sleep outside in the hammock or on the couch, when he was home at all and not off visiting or traveling somewhere. His actions were more like that of a lodger than the head of a household.

Things were vastly different with the Briefs. If Vegeta wasn't in his gravity simulator, he was down in the Research and Development labs. He hardly ever left the grounds of Capsule Corp. and Goten had spent enough sleepovers there to know that he and Bulma always went to bed together. Goten had even spied the couple in an amorous embrace more than once, much to the utter mortification of Trunks who had confessed to him not so long ago; "I wish they'd keep it confined to their bedroom. I swear, they've done it _everywhere_ in the blasted house! Geez!" It was interesting conduct for someone who had once been considered evil, that was for sure.

"Gohan seems to think that the Potara fusion is to blame for how dad and Vegeta are now," the teen ventured at last.

Piccolo considered the idea. "A magical pair of earrings is somehow responsible for the personality changes of two of the most powerful beings in the universe? Huh. I suppose anything's possible. Son has become a little more assertive than he used to be, that's for sure. And Vegeta's certainly become... domesticated, particularly since the birth of his daughter. Not necessarily a bad thing in either case."

"Speak for yourself," Goten grumbled, still full of spite.

"Oh, get over it. At least you always had your mother and Gohan around, as well as a circle of close friends. It's more than most people have. Why dwell on things you have no control over? You're eighteen now and starting on with your own life. That was the whole point of that ceremony we all attended today, wasn't it? To celebrate new beginnings?"

"I guess so," Goten said, uncertain. "But dad-"

"Where your father is concerned, just let it go. He's never going to change. I know about bitterness and spite. I used to be the embodiment of those emotions and I'm telling you: Just let it go. Obsessing over it will get you nowhere in the end. I found that out the hard way," the large Namek said honestly.

Goten nodded to himself, took a deep breath, and got slowly to his feet. "I guess you're right. Thanks Piccolo."

"No problem, kid."

With no more pleasantries between them, the young hybrid took to the air and set a direct course home. Watching after him with a neutral expression on his face, Piccolo considered resuming his meditation and then looked over to where Dende was talking with Mr. Popo. Suddenly, for no reason, the large fighter jumped down off of the roof and sauntered over to take part in the discussion. There was no real reason for the action but sometimes, just sometimes, it was a pleasant diversion to interact with other beings than be alone. Gohan had taught him that lesson almost twenty-five ago and now Goten had just reminded him how special it could be. He wasn't about to take it for granted.

Like one certain Saiyan fighter...

If Goku was aware of any tension that his presence was causing, he was blissfully unaware. He spent the late afternoon playing with Pan and finishing the leftovers. When Goten returned, he walked over to the teenager and punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Hey son! How's about you and me have a spar?"

Goten eyed him for a few seconds, playing over his conversation with Piccolo in his mind: _Just let it go_, and finally said, "I have a grad party to get ready for, dad. Sorry."

"Aw, you can go to that later. C'mon!" With that, the fighter got into his fighting stance.

The teenager ignored the invitation and walked past him to go into the house. Goku phased in front of him before he reached the front door. "Hey, what's wrong? I thought you'd be glad I'm here and want to hang out with me for a while."

"Why does it always have to be about you?!" Goten suddenly exploded. "You've made it pretty clear that you'd rather be doing anything else than be my dad. Just because you're trying to make up for forgetting my graduation doesn't mean I have to drop everything to make you feel better. This is _my_ day and I'm going to celebrate with _my_ friends. _Not with you!" _Ducking around the stunned man, the teenager went into the house.

Gohan and Videl were in the kitchen helping ChiChi wash the huge piles of dishes, pots and pans and cutlery, and saw the boy walk past them and disappear down the hall. A few minutes later, Goku came inside with Pan trailing along beside him like a miniature shadow. The Saiyan looked more puzzled than insulted. "I think Goten's angry with me," he said, scratching his head in his usual bemused way.

_You think?_ Gohan thought, drying his hands on a towel. "It's okay, I'll go talk to him," he said and followed after his brother.

Videl cast ChiChi a sidelong look and saw an expression in that dark regard she didn't want to challenge. Having the brunette as her mother-in-law had taught the younger woman when and where to pick her battles and she knew that she didn't want to be stuck in the middle of this particular marital feud. Living next door to the odd couple was bad enough. "Pan, honey, let's get you home and washed up."

"Aw momma, I wanna to stay here with grampy!" the little girl protested.

"You've been rolling around in the dirt all day. It's time for a bath, young lady," Videl said and made a quick exit for the door, dragging the protesting little child behind her.

"Bye Panny!" Goku hollered after them just before the door closed. "Wow, she's some cute, eh 'Chi? Kinda makes me wish we had a little girl," he said, coming up behind his mate where she was furiously scrubbing at a roasting pan. "Y'know, maybe it's not too late-" he laid his hands on her hips and she whirled away from him with a livid snarl.

"Don't touch me!" she shouted.

"ChiChi, what's wrong!"

"How can you be so clueless? You left the tournament before you could earn us any money just to go train a complete stranger. You hardly even said goodbye. Now you pop back into our lives and expect things to go right back to normal?"

"Well, they always have before…"

"Things have changed. Our children are grown up now. You weren't there when they needed you- When _I _needed you! If it hadn't been for Gohan, this entire family would have fallen apart a long time ago."

"What are you saying ChiChi?" the fighter asked slowly. "That you don't love me anymore?"

Her face softened. "Oh Goku, of course I love you. I swore to a vow that I would always love, honor, and cherish you for as long as we both shall live. _But you've died twice!_ I've been married as often as I've been a widow. I honestly don't know what we are anymore and until I figure it out: Hands off!" she shouted directly into his face.

Goku wisely backed away, never having won a verbal battle against his intimidating wife since the first time they'd met. He left the kitchen and ran into Gohan who was leaving the back bedroom where his brother was getting changed. "Hey Gohan! Seems I have some free time on my hands. Do you want to spar for old times sake?"

Sharp hybrid hearing had picked up the majority of the exchange between his parents. The young man had to sigh and remove his glasses for a moment to rub the bridge of his nose. _He was sure putting out fires tonight…_ "I'm going to help mom finish the dishes and then I'm going to turn in for an early night. Sorry dad."

"I just don't get it! What's wrong with everyone tonight?" he said helplessly.

Gohan considered his father for a long moment, glanced at his mother (who shrugged and turned back to the sink) and then led him into the living room and sat down beside him. "We're not punishing you, if that's what you think."

"It sure feels like it," the fighter sulked, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout.

"You just... you really let everyone down today-"

"I said I was sorry!"

"I know, but it's nothing new and that's the problem here. I guess you can say we've kind of made our peace with it and have continued on with our lives. I have my own family now. Goten is coming into his own. And mom, well... she's found out that she likes being independent."

"...As if I had any choice," came the distinct remark from the kitchen.

"Oh." Goku finally realized, "I guess I really screwed up this time, huh?" Without waiting for a response, he went outside.

"Dad-"

"Oh, leave him alone," ChiChi snapped. "Right now, I need you more than he does. Heaven forbid _he_ would help me with the dishes!"

Gohan settled into place beside his mother and, together, they attacked the mound of dishes leftover from the afternoon gathering. Looking out of the window over the sink, Gohan saw his father sitting on the picnic table in their backyard, stargazing.

Shortly after, Goten emerged from his bedroom and jumped into the kitchen, extending his arms as he yelled: "_Ta-Dah!_ Presenting the second Son family graduate on his way to par-_tay_!"

"I don't want you to drink," ChiChi said immediately.

"Sure mom," Goten said, arching one disbelieving eyebrow towards his brother. Gohan coughed politely into his fist and made no comment.

"And be careful with the girls. Especially those city girls," she fretted. "They're fresh, you know."

"I'm counting on that," the teenager muttered under his breath.

"_What was that?!"_

"I said: I'll avoid girls like that," Goten said with a crooked grin.

"Oh, I thought you said- Never mind," ChiChi said, reaching for her camera. She got a few shots of her son and brother together and then offered her next pearl of wisdom, "I expect you home by midnight."

"Mom!" Goten shouted. "Honestly, a curfew on my grad night? Are you serious? I'm an adult now!"

"And you're going to leave that pretty new car here, too," she said, obviously on a roll. "I don't want you out running the roads knowing that there will be horrid little fiends out there who will be driving while doped up or drinking, or-or Lord knows what else!"

"Oh man! I might as well stay here!" the teen said, throwing his arms up in frustration.

"Mom's right about the car, but I think a two a.m. curfew might be more reasonable." At his mother's sharp look, Gohan shrugged, "Come on, mom. You have to trust him sometime. I say, tonight's the night."

She considered the suggestion for a long moment, her brow furrowed in thought. "If you get in trouble, I want you call me right away. I'll come and get you. Any time in the night, alright?"

"Uh, sure mom," the teen said, inwardly cringing at the thought of his mother appearing at the house party he was going to attend. "But in case you've forgotten, I _can_ fly, y'know-"

"_Don't get smart with me or you won't be going at all!"_ she shrieked.

"Run while you still can," Gohan whispered and his brother took off for the door like a shot.

"'Night everybody!" he shouted and darted out of the house.

Goku turned towards the sound of the front door opening and closing and saw Goten standing on the porch, buttoning his jacket in preparation of flight. "Have a good time-"

Goten took to the sky and instantly disappeared into the darkness.

"-son," the fighter finished, his arm still rising up in a wave. He hesitated for a minute and then dropped his arm in dejection.

Inside, ChiChi shared a similar mood as her estranged husband, although for other reasons. Her youngest child was now out on his own. "They grow up so quickly," she whispered, close to tears.

"What was that, mom?"

She sniffed and shook her head to clear it. "Nothing, sweetheart. Let's finish these dishes." Housework was the only way to keep her mind on track and she didn't want to think anymore about things she couldn't control. Life moved on its own inexorable pace and no amount of worrying was ever going to change that. She had learned that life lesson the hard way.

A few hours later, she was satisfied with the cleanup and decided to go to bed early. It had been a _very_ long day.

Gohan went outside to sit beside his father. The pair were quiet for some time, listening to the crickets that were vocal on this warm summer's night. From the nearby forest an owl hooted and something made a mad dash in the underbrush.

Goku spoke up first and said sadly, "You've all moved on without me."

"Oh, dad..."

"You don't need me anymore."

"This planet needs you, and that's what you've really focused on all along." When the shaggy haired Saiyan glanced at him, Gohan added, "That's fine. It's your right: You've saved it enough times. I guess you can say that we've all accepted it by now. I'm sorry that you seem to be the last person to realize the truth: Yes, we've moved on without you. That's not to say we don't love you, dad," Gohan gripped his shoulder and smiled. "How couldn't we? But we've learned to let you go. It's for the greater good of the planet."

Hanging his head like a little child, Goku looked down at the wooden surface of the table and tried to think of what to say in the face of this blunt logic. He wasn't good with debates, always letting his heart speak for him and right now his heart was silent and aching; from shame, from regret, most of all, from the apparent loss of his family. There was nothing for a rebuttal and the tall Saiyan only nodded once to his son, got to his feet, and put his fingers to his forehead.

He winked out of sight without a word.

________________________________________

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

A Perfect Day © 2009 Darke Angelus

Part Four

* * *

Goten landed one block over from the house party but he didn't need directions to find the place. His ears were sharp enough to pick up the heavy bass beat of rock music blaring from expensive speakers.

"_I was caught  
In the middle of a railroad track (Thunder)  
I looked 'round,  
And I knew there was no turning back (Thunder)  
My mind raced  
And I thought what could I do? (Thunder)  
And I knew  
There was no help, no help from you (Thunder)"*_

Both sides of the road were already starting to fill up with cars and the youth knew he'd found the place when he saw the first teenager puking on the sidewalk. The home was a three story brownstone in the Western Capital's rich western quarter. Normally, Goten would never have been allowed to so much as know the address of the place but his friendship with Trunks had broadened his social circle considerably. Even though his best friend had graduated the year earlier, there were still plenty of cliques in high school who were more than aware of his involvement with the world's richest family and eager to keep him around like some country mascot. Goten really didn't mind being included among the "popular" kids because it lessened the stress of being, in reality, a half-alien outcast. His older brother hadn't had it easy in school and, to this day, still rankled over old nicknames he'd endured like "Bumpkin", "Four-eyes", and "Bubbles".

The front steps of the house were crowded with revelers sneaking outside for a cigarette or quick make-out sessions. Goten recognized a number of faces from his school as he walked up to the door and they flashed him a nod or a wave. The youth was comfortable among humans, more so than the rest of the Z fighters, and he already felt at ease when he entered the foyer, easily negotiating through the sea of massed, gyrating bodies.

"Goten, _hi!"_ bubbled Marie, a girl from his class. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in close for a tight bear hug. Goten slight smile broadened as he felt the swell of her breasts against his chest. _Oh mom, you were right_, he thought. _These city girls really are fresh. Lucky, lucky me!_

"Hi Marie. You look great," he said, and it would have been true if her lip stick wasn't smeared and her hair and clothes mussed. She was apparently the Walmart greeter of the evening.

"There's a keg in the kitchen. Help yourself. I'm really glad you- Timothy, _hi!_" she quickly darted around him to assault her next victim.

The drinking games were in the kitchen and Goten was stunned to see that Marie was right and a 15-gallon keg had been tapped with a steady stream of beer filling eager glasses. Then he saw the Capsule Corp. logo on the side of the silver container and yelled into the ear of the nearest partier, "Is Trunks here?"

The other teen didn't look too happy and inclined his thumb over his shoulder, motioning to the back yard. "Just go where all the girls are," he said in disgust and took a long swig of his drink.

Retrieving a glass for himself, Goten went outside and, sure enough, his friend was reclining back on a piece of patio furniture and regaling a crowd of smitten young women with tales of his past exploits. "-two years ago I went to Egypt on my summer vacation and got into a swordfight with this prince. Now, I'm a prince myself, so naturally-"

Sighing, Goten took a long drink. It was apparent that Trunks was deeply immersed in his role of Playboy-supreme and the Guys Code strictly forbade any interference in another's quest for booty. The younger man turned to go back into the house before he was noticed.

For the next hour Goten drank in moderation and danced to excess. He enjoyed dancing and because of his natural athleticism he was very good at it, a thing that few of the increasingly inebriated males at the party could boast. Because of this, there was hardy a minute when some excited girl wasn't hauling him back into the huge living room that now served as the dance floor. At this point in time, he was outnumbered five to one, and he didn't mind one little bit.

"_She's nothing like a girl you've ever seen before  
Nothing you can compare to your neighborhood girl  
I'm tryna find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful  
The way that booty movin' I can't take no more  
Have to stop what i'm doin so I can pull her close  
I'm tryna find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful"**_

He bumped up against someone and turned and saw Trunks right behind him. The pair laughed and used it as an excuse to finally get away for some fresh air (much to the disappointment of the girls, and the relief of most of the guys). They went outside and stood on the front lawn.

"So, you being a good boy tonight?" Trunks said, nodding at the glass firmly clenched in his friend's hand.

Smiling knowingly, Goten said, "You tell me. You brought the keg."

"You can't prove that."

"It's got the Capsule Corp. logo on it!"

"What doesn't?" Trunks countered with a shrug.

That was true. Bulma's company had branched out into just about everything, with the latest conquest being vineyards and breweries.

Trunks added, "I didn't think you'd be out tonight."

"Why? Because my father's finally home for a change?"

"Well... yeah."

Finishing his drink, Goten immediately wished for a refill. He had been in good spirits until being reminded of his fight with his father a few hours ago_. The things he had said._.. He had meant them, which made him feel bad, but he had hurt his father, and that just made him feel worse. "He forgot about me," he confided in a low voice. "He traded me in for a model with darker skin and more fighting power."

"It wasn't out of meanness," his friend offered. "It just... it just happened."

"For the first seven years of my life I thought my dad was like some sort of God the way everyone talked about him. But he isn't. He's selfish and immature. He's like those jocks in high school you and I hated so much. The ones who were all brawn and no brains. The ones who treated their girlfriends like crap because they knew that they could get away with it. No one really ever challenged them because they knew it would be useless. We didn't dare because it would have blown our, like, cover." Goten looked up at his taller counterpart and said, "Your dad is the only one who ever stands up to mine, you know that?"

Trunks knew that they were meandering into quicksand and tried to veer around the topic. "Look, this really isn't the time or place to-"

"-Yeah, yeah," Goten muttered, offering a vague wave. "You're right. It just... it gets me down, y'know?"

"I know." _Oh, how I know_, the older hybrid thought. His father didn't actually qualify for Father of the Year either. "Ah, forget about it for tonight. I'm sorry I brought it up. This is your night, remember?"

Nodding slowly, Goten turned to look at the townhouse. "Who lives here, anyway?"

"Family friend. His parents are both in Europe and the live-in housekeeper took the night off-"

"Convenient."

"Yeah."

"Couldn't host it at Capsule Corp., huh?"

Trunks threw his head back and laughed. Last year, after months of begging, he had managed to convince his parents to let him use the headquarters building for his own graduation party. It was supposed to have been the go-to event of the season but his mother had had other ideas. She security-locked every single room except for the kitchen, one bathroom, and the living room, leaving the other seventy percent of the building off-limits. Then she and Bra went and stayed the night at Chi Chi's. His father had stayed home to chaperone, to Trunks ultimate horror. Needless to say, by midnight most of the guests had departed to other, less intimidating, party locations and Trunks had been left with a tarnished reputation as the carefree playboy and a large mess to clean. "I didn't bother asking."

Goten's smile was back. "Smart guy," he said, clapping his friend good-naturedly on the shoulder. "I'm going back inside. Coming?"

"Sure," Trunks said and fell in step beside him before he faltered, cocking his head to the side in confusion. _What the-? Something's wrong at home_, he thought, frowning at the odd premonition. It was too strong to ignore and he instinctively sought out his father's presence, trying to home in on the older Saiyan's ki signature.

He couldn't find it.

Goten noticed that the purple-haired heir had stopped and turned back. It was fortunate in the poor lighting that he didn't notice how pale his friend had become. "Hey, you coming?"

"In a minute," Trunks managed to say, trying to make his voice sound casual. "I just remembered that I have to make a phone call. Office business. I'll join you in a minute."

Shrugging, Goten turned and negotiated around the others out for a breath of fresh air and went back inside the building where he was tackled by Marie again. "Goten, _hi!"_ she squealed.

Walking a short distance away, Trunks pulled out his cell phone and called his mother. It was picked up on the third ring. "Trunks?" It sounded like she was whispering for some reason. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

"What's wrong with dad?" he said bluntly, and now his odd intuition was positively screaming that something was _very_ wrong. It didn't help that his mother was hesitating to answer. "Mom! What happened?"

Bulma truly didn't want to disturb her son's evening. "I'm not really sure," she reluctantly admitted. "I'm in the infirmary waiting for him to wake up."

Trunks knew that his father and stints in the infirmary were commonplace, but there was something odd in his mother's voice that hinted this was something different than a conventional injury. "I'm coming home."

"Trunks, really-"

"No arguments. I'll see you soon," he said, hanging up and pocketing the phone. He took to the air and set a deliberate course home.

* * *

After leaving the school grounds early that afternoon, Vegeta remembered little of the flight home to Capsule Corp. before landing on the balcony of his and Bulma's bedroom. He managed to make it over to the bed before passing out cold. Instant Transmission was more than just ki-draining, it came close to killing him.

He had gleaned the basics of the technique from his fusion with Goku but afterwards refused to ask the other Saiyan for any help or advice on how to actually do it, and now he was suffering for his pride yet again.

Most of what Vegeta had managed to accomplish with Instant Transmission had been through trial and error. In theory, the user not only had to isolate the ki signature of the target, they had to focus and utilize their own energy to create a bridge that would initiate a successful transfer all the while not losing touch with the original link. It was a very complicated balance of energy manipulation and extreme concentration. Vegeta was talented in one of those qualities, not so much in the other.

The first time he attempted a jaunt he lost his focus on the target and became trapped in nothingness for the span of several frenzied heartbeats before managing to make it back. It had felt like being immersed in liquid nitrogen and it had taken him over a day before he could get warm again. Bulma had thought he'd come down with a bad cold and he went along with that charade, if only to spare her from the truth.

The second time he managed the transfer, and promptly collapsed on the ground dry-heaving into the dirt. When he managed to collect himself, he had the shakes so bad he had to walk home. He spent the next day holed up in the gravity simulator, sick as a dog.

The third time he managed to make a successful return trip, but a heavy nosebleed was his only reward for the effort. Other attempts over the months were met with similar, discouraging results and he finally, reluctantly, made the determination that this was a technique best reserved for emergencies _only_ and vowed to leave it alone.

Until today.

He had done it three times in less than twenty minutes, and transported an additional passenger for the first time, and he was paying for it in spades. When he came to an hour later there was only agony between his ears and it took all of his strength just to make it down to the infirmary where the nurse on duty quickly took over and got him settled onto one of the beds. He had come here quite often after his tortures at Installation 15 ***, and again while trying to cope with the psychic trauma of the aborted Potara fusion. The staff knew what to do and Vegeta took the pills the nurse gave him and downed them without comment or hesitation. Fifteen minutes later, he succumbed to a medicated doze and slipped deeper into unconsciousness; pain-free for the first time since stepping foot in Africa.

Six hours later, Bulma was slowly rocking back and forth in the lounger by his hospital bed. Bra was in her lap, fast asleep, and she tried to reposition the child to get some much-needed feeling back into her legs. Bra was heavier than she looked but the heiress was loath to take her upstairs to bed despite the late hour. During times like these, Bulma liked holding onto the child for some much needed reassurance.

There was a gentle hand on her shoulder and she turned her head and saw Trunks standing beside her. "How is he?" the young man asked, keeping his voice down.

"No change. You really didn't have to rush home for this. You know how careless your father can be-"

"This is different," Trunks said, studying his father's pale face. Vegeta was lying on his back with a cold compress over his forehead. So far, he was completely unresponsive. According to the nursing staff his body temperature was slightly elevated and his blood pressure was falling, both things uncommon with the Saiyan's usual physiology. "His ki is very low. Lower than I've ever sensed it. What happened?"

"I think it was from using Instant Transmission," she said, although she still wasn't entirely sure.

Her son looked at her sharply. "He never told me he could do that."

"Me neither. I think he may have been practicing it in secret." She remembered that there had been a period when her husband seemed to have suffered a series of puzzling ailments. Just when she started getting worried it passed as enigmatically as it had begun.

"Holy crap. It just about used up everything's he's got," Trunks said in shock.

"He did it for Goten," Bulma said. It had been working around in her genius mind for the last couple of hours that her husband must have known what a cost it was to use this ability. What other reason would there have been not to flaunt it? Yet, he had selflessly done it for a boy that wasn't even his: The son of his greatest rival.

The youth had spent a lot of time at Capsule Corp. practically since he was old enough to walk. It had been impossible to separate him from Trunks and practically every second weekend Goten was camped out in his friend's room, the pair laughing and roughhousing until Vegeta's patience finally gave out and he would yell at them to shut the hell up and go to sleep. The older Saiyan treated the boy with a weary acceptance, knowing that he was inseparable from his own son, and often sparred with the pair. Observing his paternal tolerance, Bulma had once commented that he was like a grouchy uncle to the boy (Vegeta had been so offended at the implication of any familial relationship with Goku that he hadn't spoken to her for days).

Still, he obviously liked the teenager or he wouldn't have gone to all this trouble to ensure that Goten's rightful father was present for the graduation ceremony. Selfless acts by Vegeta were rarer than solar eclipses. It was during moments like these that Bulma's heart surged with her love for the man. "Don't ever tell Goten that this happened, all right Trunks? He feels bad enough as it is about his father. He doesn't need to feel any guilt for what's happened to Vegeta. None of this is his fault."

"I understand, mom. I won't say anything." The hybrid's fairer features darkened slightly and that recognizable line between his eyebrows suddenly appeared as he said, "At least not to Goten, anyway."

"Not to Goku either. Believe me Trunks, he's getting an earful at home, if I know ChiChi. And Gohan and Goten probably took their turns, too. I don't want you getting in the middle of it."

"_But-!"_ The teenager gestured frantically at the bed.

"I know!" Bulma snapped and Bra stirred fitfully in her lap. When the girl settled down, she continued in a softer tone, "You're upset. So am I, but Goku didn't force him to do this to himself."

"So Goku's off the hook, just like always," the teen said in a sulky voice. "Dad's right. He's a jerk."

"Trunks!"

"... my progeny finally sees the light. It's a miracle," grumbled a low voice from the bed. Both heads turned to see Vegeta staring at up them.

Bulma said the first thing that came to mind, "We've got to stop meeting like this, tough guy." She broke out in a broad, relieved smile and grabbed his free hand. It was cold; a clear indication that he was still very sick.

Bra immediately snapped awake. "Poppa!" she shouted and left her mother's lap to clamber up on the bed like a monkey.

"I'm alright," he muttered, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge. The fact that he pressed the heel of his left hand to his forehead took away from the statement.

"Suuure you are," Trunks drawled knowingly.

"Watch it, brat," the Saiyan said, squinting at him even though the lights were dimmed.

"Poppa, your thoughts are still bruised," Bra said urgently, pressing her hand against his forehead.

He blinked at her. "... What-?"

"She's sensing your headache, or whatever it is," Bulma informed him. "She's better than a CAT scan."

"I don't need all of you down here fussing over me! I'm perfectly fine-" he jumped to the floor and his legs buckled underneath of him. He probably would have fallen if Trunks hadn't phased in and caught him. "This day can't possibly get any worse..." he muttered under his breath as he held onto his son.

As if on cue, Goku appeared right in front of him.

"... I stand corrected," the Saiyan prince added with a sigh, his expression hardly changing. He pushed Trunks away and stood unaided before his rival, silently praying he wouldn't keel over. "What do you want, Kakarrot?"

"Wow, Vegeta, I had a hard time zeroing in on you. Are you okay?" the taller fighter asked with concern.

"No, he's not _'okay'_," Bulma found herself saying, suddenly angry at the intrusion. "You're going to have to cut your visit short because-"

"Bulma-" Vegeta cut in. When the two locked eyes, he passed her a subtle shake of the head, an indication not to betray too much information. She relented, knowing better than to shame him in front of the other man.

"Just... make it quick. Five minutes," she said, scooping up Bra and leaving the room. "Trunks? Let's give them some privacy."

The purple-haired hybrid was glaring at Goku, not moving. "Haven't you done enough?" the teen asked through clenched teeth, angry not just for his father's condition but also for his best friend, who still worshipped this hero even though the man was never around when he was needed the most.

"Trunks. Go." Vegeta ordered and the teen skulked reluctantly out of the room.

"They're mad at me too, huh?" Goku commented when they were alone.

"So it would appear," the smaller man said, leaning against the bed for support and trying to make it look casual. His head was still singing and he felt too weak to even stand upright and this idiot just wanted to talk about his feelings. _Great._

Goku cocked his head to the side as if he had caught that errant thought. "Your ki is really weak. What's wrong?"

"I'm not used to Instant Transmission," Vegeta admitted reluctantly.

"Yeah, it took me almost a year to master it. I first started out with two feet, then four, then six-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, you can't just pop over to the next county right off the bat, Vegeta. It has to start with baby steps; just a couple of feet at first otherwise-" his eyes widened as he considered the condition of the other Saiyan. "Oh holy smokes, you didn't do that, did you? How far did you go your first time?"

_It was now all making so much sense..._ Vegeta rubbed his hot forehead with a shaking hand and grumbled out, "One hundred kilometers."

"_And you made it?!"_

"Not the first time, no."

"Wow! You're lucky to be alive!"

"I didn't think so at the time."

Goku considered his rival with new respect. "So, how many times have you used it since?"

"Venturing to that tropical paradise to fetch you was my ninth attempt."

Again, the shaggy haired fighter was left staring at the smaller man with a stunned expression on his face. "You went that entire distance on just your ninth try? Are you serious? And you brought me back home, too! No wonder you're so sick-"

"I'm not sick!" Vegeta shouted and immediately flinched and gripped the nearby bed for support. "Just... hurry it up, Kakarrot. State the reason for your visit and leave."

"Everything's all weird at home," the fighter said.

"Hnh. You're going to have to be more specific than _that_."

"I forgot about Goten's graduation and everyone's angry at me and I don't understand why: ChiChi, Gohan, Goten. Even Bulma and Trunks are upset. I don't get it! I've always come and gone and no one's ever minded before. Why is everybody so touchy about it now?"

Vegeta sighed and crossed his arms. "Twenty-two years," he muttered, almost to himself. "It's been twenty-two years since I made landfall on this dust ball of a planet and you haven't changed one little bit."

Goku peered at him in confusion. "I don't get what you're driving at."

"I'll try to use smaller words," the other fighter sneered. "You said it yourself; you've always come and gone as you've pleased."

"So?"

"Don't you understand? You've taken every single good thing in your life for granted and squandered it on your own selfish pursuits. You never realized how truly fortunate you were until today: a wife, two sons, a granddaughter. Your family. Your friends' respect. You've lost it all and it's too late to get those lost years back." Vegeta suddenly looked down and saw that Bra had gotten away from Bulma and slipped back into the room.

"Is everything okay, poppa?" she asked, grabbing possessively at his hand and staring up at Goku with only resentment in her clear blue eyes. Vegeta laid a hand on her head, ruffling the sky-blue colored hair as his answer and finally turned back to the other fighter, saying in a softer voice, "We've battled twice and both times it ended as a draw. Right?"

"Yeah, sure, if that's what you want to call it," Goku said with a frown, wondering how this change of topic was going to apply to his personal crisis.

The prince flushed with old anger and had to force himself to continue;"In every other fight, you've emerged as the champion; the true hero of the Earth." _God, it hurt to say the words out loud but -Damn it!- they were true._ This third class clown surpassed him in power and popularity... in all the things that mattered, except for one.

"What are you getting at, Vegeta?"

"I've learned the hard way that holding on to the respect of your family is the most difficult, most time-consuming thing a man can _ever_ hope to accomplish, Kakarrot. Where you and I are both concerned in that particular matter, you've lost the most important battle of them all."

The Saiyan prince paused, flashing his coldest, most sinister grin and relished saying the next five words: "I'm the real victor here."

Boldly turning his back on the stunned fighter, Vegeta walked out of the dim room, talking in low, muted tones to his daughter.

"Vegeta!" Goku shouted after him.

"No more, Kakarrot. We are done," the Saiyan prince said decisively and closed the door.

Outside, the voices of Trunks and Bulma chimed in asking if everything was okay, if _he_ was okay, and their conversation eventually turned to faint mutterings of sound that grew fainter as the family left the infirmary to return upstairs to the expansive living area they called home.

Goku stood alone in the room for a long time, thinking, replaying the terse exchange over and over in his head. Vegeta words had carried the impact of a blow and it had been exactly what the younger Saiyan needed to hear; to have his life put in the context of a battle:

The ultimate battle he had lost long ago.

* * *

_To be continued..._

* * *

* "Thunderstruck" by AC/DC

** "Sexy Chick" by David Guetta (Feat. Akon)

** Fanfic reference: "TWO SIDES TO A STORY": Chapter Four


	5. Chapter 5

A Perfect Day © 2009 Darke Angelus

Part Five

* * *

_It was all so different now..._

Goten sat on the hill that overlooked his house and the valley beneath Mount Pazou and watched the sun come up. He had gotten home in time for his mom's curfew but slipped out again shortly before dawn to savor this rare solitude. His head felt clear (if slightly hung-over) and the realization that he was finally finished with exams, college selections, and – the ultimate prize- graduation, seemed to suddenly hit him over the head like a blow from Majin Buu.

_Everything was different now._

The trial and tribulations of high school were over: No more juvenile pranks, no more peer pressure, no more worrying about appearances, especially no more fretting over those 'popular' girls with their gaggle of friends who could make or break a poor guy with some piece of deliciously evil gossip (true or made-up). Goodbye stupid class assignments, small time school politics, and boring extra-curricular activities. Farewell to hall monitors and bullies, chaperoned school dances, miserable PE, and crappy cafeteria food. Aside from one or two teachers who stood out from the rest, Goten could happily forget the majority of instructors who just seemed to be going through the motions of their job.

He was on his own now. Free to make his own choices and have direction over his own destiny. _Free..._

Goten had watched how his older brother, a fighter with the potential to be stronger than their father and Vegeta, bent his own ambitions and desires to accept what their mother thought was best for him. Gohan became the scholar she had relentlessly pushed him to become. He really didn't have any other choice. With their father continuously absent, someone in the household had to be able to support them. The youngest son knew that to escape that same fate, he would have to move. It saddened him to have made the decision but he wasn't going to settle into a life living in a home next door to his mother, like his older brother had done. He wanted to travel first, not marry the first woman he fell in love with and settle down. His parents had done that at eighteen. Gohan had been twenty. Goten planned on staying single as long as he could. ChiChi had become a grandmother to Pan; the pressure was off him to be any kind of a role model.

Especially considering who their role model had been...

Goku was sleeping in the hammock when the teenager returned home at two in the morning and the youth, while surprised to see him still sticking around, had no desire to disturb him. A few hours later, as he slipped from the house, he noticed that his father was gone. No big surprise there, either. Goten still loved his father, make no mistake, and he still marveled over the man's sheer power and expert fighting prowess, but he had lost a great deal of respect for him all the same. It was another side-effect of this growing maturity he was dealing with: He could now view his parents as fallible, normal people who made mistakes. Often bad ones. They weren't deities to worship, or demons to fear. They were simple people trying to struggle and cope with their hectic lives just like everyone else. Good or bad, they simply tried to do their best.

'_Your father has an amazing knack for popping in when he's most needed, playing the selfless hero, and disappearing again. How can anyone really hate a guy like that?' _Piccolo's words came back to him and the Namek had been right: You couldn't hate a person like that, even if you tried. Even Vegeta had a grudging camaraderie with the personable fighter and the prince didn't like anybody, outside of his own family.

"I wish..." he muttered and went silent. How many times had he lied awake at night thinking about the Dragonballs and the wishes he could make? _'I wish my father was home'; 'I wish my parents were happy'; 'I wish I could live at Capsule Corp.'; "I wish I were normal'. _There were so many that went through his mind, changing in range and scope as the years went by. The Dragonballs were meant for serious damage control, not adolescent dreams, but it was hard to convince any teenager that their problems weren't the end of their world. Goten had realized this before acting rashly but, still, he often wondered... _'What if-?'_

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" commented a voice beside him, making him jump.

Goku was kneeling in the grass, deliberately out of his peripheral vision for who knows how long. He had exchanged his usual orange gi for his light blue casuals and both knees were already wet with early morning dew. He was holding a handful of wildflowers, no doubt a peace offering for ChiChi. "Right after we got married, your mother and I stood here on this peak for hours, searching for the perfect spot to build our dream home. I grew up around here and couldn't think of a more beautiful place to live and raise our children. Yeah, it's isolated, and rural, and over an hour away from the Western Capital, but to me it was heaven on earth."

_Past tense,_ Goten thought to himself as he listened. _He's using past tense and not even aware of it._

"Things were just perfect for a few years and then Radditz came and everything suddenly changed: I died; I ascended to Super Saiyan; I encountered villains that could destroy this beautiful planet a hundred times over, I... changed and, I guess, maybe not for the better." The fighter moved closer and sat beside his youngest son, staring at him with eyes that were dark and sorrowful. "Fighting became more than just a hobby, it became my life and you, and Gohan, and ChiChi all suffered for it. Vegeta was right: I'll never get any of that time back. I missed watching you grow up for the first seven years of your life. I missed you being born-" his voice went hoarse and he scrubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and betrayed a strangled sob. "-I'm so sorry, Goten!"

Shocked beyond words, Goten could only put an arm around his father's shaking shoulders. "You... you did the best you could, dad-"

He violently shook his head. "No, I didn't. I let you down so many times. You're all grown up now and I missed it. I missed everything! If you hate me, I-I can understand-"

"I don't hate you," Goten choked. "I could never hate you. You're my _father_."

Goku stared at his son, there were tear tracks down both of his cheeks and his eyes looked rheumy. Neither could ever remember a time when the man had ever shed tears. "I'm not a good one," he whispered, and he clutched his chest as if the words were tearing his heart.

"You're my father," Goten repeated and hugged him. "That's the only thing that matters."

Clutching desperately at his son, Goku thanked him over and over and promised that he was a new man now. That things would be different and he would make it a point to put his family first. He would stay close and not stray an inch.

It lasted for one week.

* * *

Vegeta was in the process of cleaning out one of the storage sheds on the Capsule Corp. grounds when he suddenly stopped what he was doing and cocked his head to the side like a puzzled dog. He was picking up a muffled _thump-thump-thump_ bass beat that seemed to be getting closer and it wasn't until he caught sight of a shiny red sports car that he realized the sound's origin. He went back to what he was doing with a disgruntled snort. He was angry and out of sorts and didn't appreciate any unannounced visit, particularly not from Kakarrot's spawn. It only served to remind him that, even after seven days, his system still hadn't completely recovered from his Instant Transmission endeavors on Goten's graduation day. Bulma had the Gravity Simulator locked out, and his son wouldn't spar with him. He was crawling the walls out of sheer boredom.

Goten pulled up to the gate on the property, the car's stereo blasting away, and pressed his thumb in the security pad. Bulma's system did a quick scan to confirm the youth's identity and promptly opened the gate on a timed circuit that allowed the car to pass before slamming shut again. It had only been in the last five or so years that such precautions had become necessary as the Briefs family tried to maintain their privacy, particularly since Bra's birth. At least once a week, some ambitious paparazzi managed to breech the system only to find Vegeta waiting for him at the main building. It was a miracle that the Saiyan hadn't killed any of the intruders but Bulma feared her husband's patience was running out and kept making improvements to the design on a nearly daily basis.

Goten pulled up to the huge domed building and beeped the horn, making the Saiyan wince. He still had a headache and the added noise over the vehicle's straining speakers was almost more than he could bear. He made a slashing gesture across his throat and Goten immediately snapped off the stereo and turned off the car. The muted tones of the city filled the void and the Saiyan closed his eyes to savor the quiet.

"Hiya Vegeta!" Goten said, walking over.

"Trunks isn't here," came the expected response.

"I didn't come here to see him. I wanted to talk to you."

Vegeta didn't respond and hauled a massive steel girder out of the shed and hoisted it to his shoulder without any visible effort even though it had to weigh over three tonnes. He carried it over to a nearby dumpster and threw it inside the container as if it were a twig. "I'm not in the mood to talk," he grumbled and walked back to the shed for a repeat performance.

Goten reined his enthusiasm back and watched the older Saiyan work for a few minutes. It was rare when Vegeta engaged in what he called "menial labor", and it was even rarer to see him bare-chested and wearing jeans. Clearly, he had been at this for a few hours if his disheveled appearance was any indication. "Is there anything I can do to h-"

"No. Go in the house, go get something to eat, go anywhere but here. I have to get this done." Bulma had hired a salvage company to clean out the shed but as soon as she left for work, Vegeta excused the crew to do the work himself. _"Light duties" be damned._ The crew was due back in a few hours, Bulma shortly after, and it was the Saiyan's intention that his wife be none the wiser to this deception.

"Really, Vegeta, it won't take long-"

"Sonova-" Slamming an old refrigerator down to the ground, the Saiyan whirled on him. "Fine! Spit it out and get lost!"

Unfazed by the tantrum, Goten said with a smile, "I want to thank you."

"I know, I know! You like the damned car-"

"That's not what I'm talking about."

The expression on Vegeta's face immediately became guarded and wary. Pulling a rag from his back pocket, he wiped the grime off of his face as he collected his thoughts and finally said in a calmer voice, "What, exactly, are you referring to, boy?"

"I know that you had a good talk with my dad and it really seemed to straighten him out. He was like a different man this week. That was really a better present than the car. Thanks, Vegeta."

The Saiyan offered him an acknowledging nod of acceptance, relieved that the teenager didn't appear to know anything about the Instant Transmission debacle. "Is your father still home?"

"No. He went back to Africa this morning," Goten said, but he didn't appear troubled by this fact. "He promised to come back and visit more often-" he saw Vegeta's mouth open and cut in with; "Yeah, I know. I won't get my hopes up or anything-"

"I was going to say that I believe your father will hold true to that promise," the Saiyan told him honestly.

Goten blinked in disbelief at the shorter man. "You do...?"

"Kakarrot has played the act of the clown for too long but it's just that: An act. Your graduation day was the first time he realized it. For all the insults I hurl at him, I know he isn't stupid. He realizes that he let you down and he will make up for it, in his own idiotic way, I'm sure."

"Wow, that's good to hear. My mom and even Gohan figure that he'll just go back to... y'know, forgetting all about us again."

"He won't. It takes one Saiyan to know another; even if the other Saiyan is a specimen of lowly Third Class breeding," Vegeta said haughtily. "So... are we finished here?"

The teenager looked back at him in confusion. "What?"

"I'm in the middle of something. Is the reason for this interruption now over?"

"Oh!" Goten looked at the shed and saw that it was still half crammed with junk; old machinery of Dr. Briefs that had seized up with rust and disuse; gadgets that Bulma had stopped tinkering with over the years; old engine parts and other debris. There was a lot of work left to do but the youth hesitated in answering.

"Goten..." there was a cautionary note to the Saiyan's voice meaning he was a hair's breadth to returning to his "Bad Man" mode and the teen knew he'd better speak quickly.

"You'll probably think this is pretty silly, but before my dad came back, I used to wish..." Goten lapsed into silence and chewed nervously at the inside of his cheek before blurting out, "I'd see Trunks with you and I used to wish that I could live here and be your son, too." He blushed and stared down at the ground for a few seconds and then braved himself to make eye contact.

Vegeta was staring back, his expression surprisingly neutral. "Ironic," he muttered.

"What is?"

"Trunks once said the same thing to me about _your_ father."

The teenager openly gaped at him. "Trunks actually said that? _To you?!"_

"It was a bad day," was all Vegeta would say of the matter. *

Goten waited for more but saw that the older man had lapsed into moody silence and it gave a moment for the youth to examine him. Vegeta was vastly different from his own father just as Piccolo had said; _As different as night and day._ It wasn't hard to tell who belonged to the darkness either. Vegeta's temper was as short as his height and he could be intimidating as hell. With his shirt off, Goten caught sight of numerous faded scars that the Saiyan had acquired during his thirty years in space. It looked as he had endured a great deal of heavy combat, and they were years that he never talked about. He was of royal blood, a strategist, intelligent enough to give Bulma a run for her money, insanely powerful, sarcastic, and seemingly never happy about anything.

_However..._ Goten had spent enough time at Capsule Corp. over the years to know there was a different side of the brash, often obnoxious, alien. When he was alone with Bulma or with his family Vegeta laughed, and quite often (a sound that had startled the teenager the first time he heard it). And he had a wicked sense of humor when the mood struck him (Trunks had an entire repertoire of raunchy jokes committed to memory that would make even Bulma squirm). Most surprising of all, he was exceptionally patient and gentle where Bra was concerned.

Goten genuinely liked him and was grateful that the man had been around to provide a much needed father-figure while his own had been absent. Vegeta had even given him what Gohan labeled the "Know your enemy" speech ** when he had hit puberty (from that day on, girls had never quite looked the same...). "For what it's worth, Trunks was wrong," he offered.

"I don't need any reassurances from you, boy," came the scathing response.

Goten sighed. "Can I at least give you hand moving out all this junk? There's a heck of a lot there for just one person."

Glowering at the teenager, Vegeta turned and considered the shed, still over half full and it was getting late in the day. He had taken too many breaks as his strength waned and had fallen drastically behind. "Just a second," he grumbled, pulling his cell phone out of his back pocket to check the time. "Damn it. I might just have to take you up on-"

"_VEGETA!"_

Flinching in shock, he fumbled with the phone and looked up to see Bulma hovering overhead in her personal jet, leaning out of the open pilot door and glaring down at him. Goten distinctly heard him mutter, "Ah shit," as she landed on the lawn and jumped out. His muscles started bunching up as if he were about to engage in a battle and he raised a finger in warning to his advancing wife. "Don't you _dare_ start bitching at me-"

"What the hell is this?!" she yelled, waving her arms at the half-empty dumpster. "Where's the crew I hired? Why haven't they finished? _And what are you doing out of bed?"_

"I can't rest anymore! I told them to get lost so I could do the job myself!"

"Great idea, Mr. Wizard! From the looks of things you bit off more than you could chew, didn't you? Get in the house!"

"Back off, woman. I'm almost done!" he snarled and stalked into the shed in an obvious retreat.

"Oh, don't you turn your back on me, buster! I'm not through with you!" Bulma said and chased him inside the building.

There was more yelling, some name-calling, and then... ominous silence. Goten knew it was time to leave when he heard Bulma say in a breathless voice, "You know, you look damn sexy in those jeans..."

And that was followed by the rare sound of Vegeta's low, husky laugh.

* * *

Summer passed on its inexorable pace until the nights began to linger with that subtle chill in the air that suggested the next progression of seasons was well on its way. Leaves were turning color and the valley beneath Mount Pazou looked like it was on fire in resplendent gold, crimson, and orange hues. Peppered here and there were tendrils of smoke as chimneys flared to life in other farmsteads, chasing away the early morning chill.

Goten stood on the rise where he often came to study or think and considered the view with a sad smile on his face. His bags were all packed and already loaded in the car. He would be moving into his room at the student dorm at the Western Capital campus late this afternoon. As promised, Bulma had placed him in a well-paying laborer position at one of Capsule Corp.'s factories near the university that revolved perfectly around his academic schedule. He would be starting his first day of work there tomorrow and his heart was racing; whether from fear or anticipation he couldn't be sure. He couldn't believe all of this was happening even though he'd had the last two months to prepare. All of a sudden things seemed to be progressing much too quickly: new home, new school, new job, new life. It was overwhelming for any eighteen-year-old, and the hybrid was no exception.

Thankfully, Trunks had gone through all these trials the year before and it had helped to prepare Goten for what to expect. Despite their power and wealth, Bulma and Vegeta were not coddling their son and Trunks was taking Business and Economic courses at the university while interning at the Headquarters building. There would be many evenings ahead for the two best friends as they compared their hectic schedules over a beer at the local pub.

Taking a long inhale of the fresh air, Goten released it with a smile and ambled down the hill. His mother was cooking a large dinner as a send off and Gohan, Videl and Pan were there to see him off. Goku had held true to his promise of visiting them regularly, just as Vegeta had said, and the last visit had been two days ago; a wonderful day of sparring in the yard like old times and watching a movie in the living room, just like regular folks. Goten had no expectations of seeing his father back so soon so he was amazed when he saw the fighter happily wrestling with Pan on the front lawn.

"_Dad?!"_

"Hi son," Goku said, pinning Pan to the ground with just his pinky finger. The little girl was thrashing like a hellcat but couldn't break the hold so she settled for kicking at the lawn in a tantrum and bawling. "ChiChi told me that this was your last day at home. I figured I'd see you off."

"That- that's wonderful!" the teenager said and ran over to him. "I didn't think you'd come back so soon."

"I made a promise," the tall Saiyan told him seriously. He let go of Pan and the little girl immediately tried to punch his face. He deflected it easily. "Two visits a week, plus all holidays and special occasions. If this isn't a special occasion, I don't know what is."

"We're glad to see you," Gohan said, leaning against the front door, his arm casually slung around Videl's small waist. ChiChi rushed out the door and leapt into Goku's arms and kissed him, and the fighter swung her around in a circle and hugged her close, laughing.

Goten observed his family with a lump in his throat, committing every single detail to memory. It would be his happy thought whenever the future got stressful and he needed an image that would relax and cheer him up. His father was home, his parents were reunited, his brother and his family were healthy and happy.

It was, finally, a perfect day.

_The End._

* * *

* Fanfic reference: "MIRROR, MIRROR": Part Three

** Fanfic reference: "TWO SIDES TO A STORY": Chapter 10


End file.
